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frasersimons 's review for:
The Magicians
by Lev Grossman
2022 re read: Yep, still an all-time favourite. I don’t know that I have more thoughts, since I left quite a bit with the last read. But I think it is a singular experience. I am never surprised when people don’t like it. After all, it is tongue-in-cheek, withholds catharsis, subverts pretty much every expectation, and has a thick coating of verisimilitude on 17 through 21 year olds, who behave poorly and make bad decisions. None of them are aspirational and the world is cruel. Fantasy is usually an escape from the very things Grossman is most interested in interrogating. But that is what makes it resonate with me so much, at a deeply personal level. So.
Honestly, my favourite books are just a new sub genre called ‘Getting What You Want Fucks You Up’.
I can see why this is so polarizing for people. It is entirely from the perspective of a young, privileged, cis het, borderline depressive straight up asshole. And that’s trying at times. No doubt about it. He doesn’t really have the wherewithal to view himself or other people clearly, especially his friends. And his friends, the type a, just as privileged, high functioning young pricks, are the embodiment of problematic societal structures along with him!
It’s not a ‘fun’, relaxing read. But it is cathartic—at least for me. More than any other fantasy book like this, I can relate to Quentin, especially, company as well, but less so. Q is exactly the way I was from the 17-21 years in this book. Maybe some white boys had it together at that time but I sure didn’t. And I coped exactly like he does. Poor communication skills, jumping from one obsessive thing to the next, never processing or being aware of others very well, or their needs, let alone my own.
Additionally, it has something far more compelling being explored than others. What would magic due to personalities like this, and children, though we don’t think of ourselves that way, at that age, we are. The idea that there is an adventure or cure all for the human condition or the conditioning we have ingrained in us, where everything will be okay if you’ve got pals, is interrogated in this really well, imo.
I have always found that permanent, substantive change comes only when you do it for yourself by yourself, and sometimes it’d hard to realize when you’re changing for someone else and not yourself.
Q doesn’t even know he’s an asshole for most of it. He doesn’t know who the real enemy is. He doesn’t know how unprepared they all are. Much of this is book is only about substantive things and skips right over what would be traditionally interesting in favour of asking some interesting questions about the condition of the average white male, academia, the purpose of stories, and what conditions are needed to ‘grow up’.
For those reasons this story will always personably resonate with me in a way others can’t hope to. It would be hard to ever top, too, since it is a cautionary story and a reminder of why we should be constantly paying homage to our former selves even as we bury them to, hopefully, be far better than we were at that age. I know for me, age has felt like a process where I just keep realizing why I was stupid or shitty, both to myself and to others, every few years—and then I try to change as best I can. Especially when I feel numb.
Honestly, my favourite books are just a new sub genre called ‘Getting What You Want Fucks You Up’.
I can see why this is so polarizing for people. It is entirely from the perspective of a young, privileged, cis het, borderline depressive straight up asshole. And that’s trying at times. No doubt about it. He doesn’t really have the wherewithal to view himself or other people clearly, especially his friends. And his friends, the type a, just as privileged, high functioning young pricks, are the embodiment of problematic societal structures along with him!
It’s not a ‘fun’, relaxing read. But it is cathartic—at least for me. More than any other fantasy book like this, I can relate to Quentin, especially, company as well, but less so. Q is exactly the way I was from the 17-21 years in this book. Maybe some white boys had it together at that time but I sure didn’t. And I coped exactly like he does. Poor communication skills, jumping from one obsessive thing to the next, never processing or being aware of others very well, or their needs, let alone my own.
Additionally, it has something far more compelling being explored than others. What would magic due to personalities like this, and children, though we don’t think of ourselves that way, at that age, we are. The idea that there is an adventure or cure all for the human condition or the conditioning we have ingrained in us, where everything will be okay if you’ve got pals, is interrogated in this really well, imo.
I have always found that permanent, substantive change comes only when you do it for yourself by yourself, and sometimes it’d hard to realize when you’re changing for someone else and not yourself.
Q doesn’t even know he’s an asshole for most of it. He doesn’t know who the real enemy is. He doesn’t know how unprepared they all are. Much of this is book is only about substantive things and skips right over what would be traditionally interesting in favour of asking some interesting questions about the condition of the average white male, academia, the purpose of stories, and what conditions are needed to ‘grow up’.
For those reasons this story will always personably resonate with me in a way others can’t hope to. It would be hard to ever top, too, since it is a cautionary story and a reminder of why we should be constantly paying homage to our former selves even as we bury them to, hopefully, be far better than we were at that age. I know for me, age has felt like a process where I just keep realizing why I was stupid or shitty, both to myself and to others, every few years—and then I try to change as best I can. Especially when I feel numb.